Recovery
by EE's Skysong
Summary: After Suki dies, leaving behind an infant son, Sokka is devastated. Good thing Toph's around to snap him out of it and help him pick up the pieces. Tokka.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Written for Tokka Week 2011. I left off the first prompt because my response sucks and it's out of chronological order.

Toph liked Sokka. There were the superficial things: he had a lovely, deep voice that made her skin tingle; when she held onto his arms, she felt obvious, strong muscles; he could burp almost as loud as her.

And then there was the important stuff. He never told her to try and make peace with the anger she felt at her parents; he just sat still and listened when she talked about them without a drop of judgment. He was the only one, in all of Team Avatar, to understand how much she didn't care about things like Nation or spirits or any of that.

And, when they were alone, she could ask him any question and get a true answer.

Toph liked Suki. Her feelings for Sokka were one part of her, her affection for Suki another. They never interfered. No matter how jealous or angry or just plain tired she felt when Suki touched Sokka in a million little ways, or how much she wanted to die when she saw them doing things behind bushes that Aang and Katara would faint to think of—she liked Suki. Even though Suki couldn't tell a decent joke or appreciate a good armpit fart, she made Sokka happy, she was strong and confident, and she was a reliable back for Toph to set hers against in a fight. And she made good dumplings.

So Toph didn't care that Sokka loved Suki. She had buried the part of her that thought it hurt and never let it speak. But she was getting older now, noticing other boys the way she noticed everything about Sokka. Oh, not in the same ways and not as much. Nobody she met could guide her without making her feel weak; nobody she met had the same timbre to his voice. But they were strong, and some of them were earthbenders, and some of them tried to kiss her. And she wanted to let them, but… well, kissing was not part of a young noble lady's education, nor did it have a place in her earthbending life.

At first, Toph thought to ask Katara, but Katara would want to talk about _feelings_, and Toph wanted to talk about her feelings about as often as she wanted to wear a dress—not never, but very rarely, and only in cases where she was sure no one would comment on it.

Which left Sokka. (Aang and Zuko never entered her mind. Though she cared for Aang, she did not confide in him, and as for Zuko… he was so stupid about anything related to the heart and kissing. Toph half-thought Mai only stayed with him because she thought he was too pathetic to dump.)

Finding time to speak with Sokka was not very hard. Zuko had to remain in the Fire Nation, trying to bring his nobles to heel, but the rest of the group had stayed together. They split up more often, but they always returned to each other, even if it took a few months. Right now, Aang was off doing some sort of Avatar thing, and Katara was with him, so it was just Toph, Suki, and Sokka. Suki was sleeping—pregnancy took it out of her—and Sokka was off hunting. So Toph, after checking that Suki was safe, went off to find Sokka.

He was fishing in a stream; when he heard her coming, he didn't even look up, just scooted over to make some room on his rock. "Hey," said Sokka.

"Hey," said Toph. She swung her legs, unsure how to continue. She knew Sokka wouldn't laugh at anything he had to say. But it was still embarrassing and difficult to get going.

Sokka crossed his legs. She knew by the rustle of cloth, and she was half-tempted to press against him to see exactly what he was doing and get some idea of his expression. But those things were no longer like breathing now that he was married; even the slightest touch felt like she was impinging on territory that had been marked out by someone else, a betrayal of the trust and friendship Suki had always shown her. "Is something wrong?" Sokka asked finally.

Toph curled her toes up against the soles of her feet. "…No." Sokka didn't reply; he knew she was thinking. She shook her head at her own foolishness and just let the words come instead of trying to dress them up. "What's it like?" She felt Sokka's eyes on her—she always knew when someone was looking at her, the way she knew the time of day by the temperature—and shrugged, flexing and unflexing her toes. "You know. All that… stuff." A blush came into her cheeks, but she ignored it.

Sokka shifted; she wondered if he was blushing back, or if he was just considering the best way to answer. He drummed his fingers on his fishing reel and let out a slow breath, the way he always did when she asked him something tricky. Then he shrugged: though she couldn't see it, she recognized the noise his shirt made as his shoulders raised and rubbed against his necklace. "It's—it's really good. The best thing." He tapped his bare heel against the rock. Toph saw it like three tiny sunbursts. "Toph, I really don't think you should ask me about this."

Toph tilted her head, her brows coming together. Sokka had never said that to her before; she wasn't sure if she should be hurt. But something about the tension of his body said he wasn't done speaking, so she stayed still and didn't feel anything.

"It's not because I care about—telling you," said Sokka after a long, drawn-out sigh. "I don't. It's just… it's really different for girls, and—well, whatever Suki says, I don't think I'm good at it, and I definitely don't know what it's like."

Toph's ears heated up; she pressed her hands against them. She knew the basics of sex—there was no way you could spend time among the rabble of a population and _not_ learn about it. (Commoners, if you asked Toph, were more sensible about the whole thing, but that was an entirely different conversation.) "I'm not _that_ far yet. I just…" She broke off. The thought of saying the word _kiss _in front of Sokka was still embarrassing no matter how carefully she held her feelings in check around him.

Sokka shifted again. At least it was just as awkward for him. At least she knew he wouldn't ever bring it up again—when they talked in private, it stayed private. "It's not as complicated as everybody makes it sound, you know." He paused. "I mean, it never gets easy—I've been with Suki for what feels like forever now, and I still think she's going to laugh at me every time I try to kiss her. But it's just… it's kissing." He paused again, fidgeting, and she felt him look at her once more. "Do you—"

Toph pressed her feet flat against the rock, for comfort. This was the last thing she wanted to talk about with him—but it was still as easy as breathing because that was how they were. "I don't like anybody." She tossed her head and tried to look like she didn't care, even though she knew he'd see right through it. "I just figured I'd ask somebody who knew in case—in case it came up."

Sokka let out a deep breath. After a moment, his arm came around her shoulders in a rough hug. "Yeah, you do that. And if anybody hurts you, make sure you leave a piece of them for me."

Toph realized something sharp and painful, like metal grating on stone, and she put her arms around him as tight as they would go. He rested his arm around her again and didn't say anything, and she was glad of it, because she didn't want to explain what she had thought of, what he doubtless already knew.

If she kissed anyone else, this would change. She would either come to care for the person she kissed—or she would have to act like she did. And she couldn't take the thought. She couldn't articulate how much her friendship with Sokka mattered to her—how important it was that things never, never changed between them—but that didn't matter. She felt it.


	2. Chapter 2

Sokka was very good about it at first. He took the news well; he asked to be alone, but what else could you expect? Toph, Aang, and Katara were left with Kuei, their worry, and their grief, but Sokka emerged a few hours later, dry-eyed and calm, and told them Suki ought to be buried on her home island because it was always the place she loved best. The group exchanged glances behind his back, but none of them could tell how he was really taking it.

When they returned to the Southern Water Tribe, Sokka retreated into his own tent and did not emerge. Everyone was willing to give him space; he needed it. Who wouldn't? Katara looked after Kuei without complaint. Aang and Toph talked about the state of the nations, planning their next move. It was supposed to keep their minds off Sokka, but he had never been absent at a planning session before. Toph felt that absence like a loose tooth, and like a loose tooth she couldn't help but worry at it.

One day turned into two, and then to three. Nobody acknowledged it, even Toph; she was the first to admit Aang and Katara were much better at the emotions thing, so she was willing to let them lead.

But on the third evening, Kuei began to wail, and no one could soothe him. Kuei was the happiest of babies; he fell asleep easily, and when he was awake, he was content to gurgle and drool. Toph liked him more than most babies, both because he was Sokka's and because he made a lot less noise than most.

Hearing Kuei scream, Toph felt not irritation but sympathy. What else was the kid supposed to do? His mother was gone, and now his father, his only constant, had disappeared too. The thought sparked something in her; she got up before she knew she was going to do it.

Aang and Katara both looked at her. "Toph—" said Katara.

"No," said Toph, without turning around. She was surprised how even and calm her voice was; inside, she was boiling. "I've tried it your way. I've been patient. I've sat still. And if it was just Sokka, I would let him do whatever the hell he wanted."

That was not true, but as far as she knew, nobody else realized how deep her feelings for Sokka still ran, and she wanted to keep it that way.

"But it's not just about him." She pointed at Kuei, whose shrieking was like the constant ping of a bat's echolocation, telling her where Katara and Aang stood. "It can't be about him anymore. So we're going to do it my way, got it?"

Katara and Aang just stood there. Their breathing was steady, not loud, and told her nothing about what they were thinking, what they were communicating to each other in the secret language of people who loved each other.

After a moment, Aang sighed. His sighs were always soft and heavy, like a just-lifeless bird. "If anybody can do it, you can."

Sokka's tent was connected to the one they waited in by a thick flap. Though she couldn't see like she was used to on ice and snow, she had walked around the small tent enough times to know where everything was in relation to everything else. She didn't need to be guided. Toph held her head up high as she walked over for two reasons: first, she did not want to let Aang or Katara know that she doubted herself, that if she couldn't help Sokka she might curl up into a ball of despair just like him; second, she did not want to let herself know.

Suki's pregnancy was a frightening time for Sokka.

For one thing, nobody had ever bothered to teach Sokka anything about the female body. Oh, he knew the anatomy well enough from personal experience, but all he knew about pregnancy was that it made women throw up a lot, and that they died as often as they lived, even with healers present. The moment Suki told him, he threw himself into research. He read every book on pregnancy ever written. He talked to all the healers—all of whom told him that he wouldn't be allowed in the room during the birthing anyway, but gave in after they realized he wasn't going to drop it. He talked to all the women he knew who'd had children.

And everything he learned just made it worse. Pregnancy was about the most complicated thing in the universe. Everything Suki did could affect the baby: what she ate and drank; how often and how hard she exercised; even what side she slept on. There was no comfort, especially when he learned about the details of birth itself. It could be a breech birth. The baby could have the umbilical cord wrapped around its neck. Suki could hemorrhage, and he would lose the wife he couldn't live without and the baby he already loved so much it hurt.

Suki thought he was being ridiculous. The pregnancy tired her, but otherwise it was easy. She tried telling him stories of women she knew who'd had worse experiences, but that just made Sokka panic more. She decided the only person who got to discuss the details of pregnancy was her. Sokka was only allowed to rub her rounding belly and tell her she looked lovelier than ever, not like a beached whale. And possibly talk about how awesome their child would grow up to be.

Kuei came into the world on the exact day Katara said he would. The labor lasted only half the day, and he was perfectly healthy and happy. Sokka rushed into the room as soon as he was allowed. Katara gave him regular updates when she asked for more hot water and towels, but he refused to believe that everything had gone all right until he could touch Suki and the baby for himself.

And even then he wasn't calm, because when he looked down into Kuei's eyes—who, somehow, was Hakoda in miniature—he realized that Kuei's whole life was going to be like this. There was no way to plan for this tiny life, no way to control it. Any matter of things could happen, and all they could do was roll with the punches. The thought made him shudder, and he was all too happy to pass Kuei to Aang for a moment.

The parts of the Earth Kingdom colonized by the Fire Nation were a problem from day one. The island colonies declared themselves an independent nation and refused to recognize the new Fire Lord or any of the other Fire Nation nobility. And then there was the problem of who the land belonged to. Most of the land very close to the Fire Nation had been colonized for almost eighty years, and all of the original inhabitants had long been killed or forced to move somewhere else. But their descendents had long memories and loud voices, and therefore part of the treaty between the nations involved an insistence that anyone of Fire Nation descent in the colonies had to return to their ancestral lands. It was a terribly idea in theory, and even worse in practice.

And with the Fire Nation army overstretched and rebellious, it fell to the Avatar's friends to look after things. Even four years after the end of the war, Team Avatar was still forced to head into the colonies and resolve disputes. People might stand up to the army, after all, and it would be messy and painful, and people would get hurt when they really didn't need to. They would never stand up to the Avatar (not to mention his best friends).

Suki loved this. She hadn't seen as much of the world as the others, and so it never stopped delighting her.

After Kuei's birth, Suki was happy to stay at home and out of the fighting for about his first year. She and Sokka were living in the South Pole, guiding a team of waterbenders and engineers in constructing a South Pole village worthy of its sister in the north. There were raids by rogue bands of Fire Nation elitists, and it was enough to keep Suki happy.

Sokka was glad of it. He was needed here more than anywhere; it was Team Avatar's base of operations, and he kept track of all the information gathered, sorting through it and taking note of what was most important. He was the only one who could do it. If Suki left, he couldn't go with her. He didn't worry about her safety—well, he did, but only in the vague way he worried about everything—but if she left, he would miss her terribly. They hadn't been separated for longer than a month since Zuko's coronation.

But then a troupe of Suki's fighters, led by Ty Lee, was taken captive while trying to recapture the largest of the colony cities. Sokka couldn't ask her to stay, not while the people she loved most besides Team Avatar were in danger. She left with his blessing and his love, because he knew one thing above all else: Suki could handle herself.

It was almost funny. He spent all that time and energy worrying about something that so many women got through without problems—and he let her go into a war zone without breaking a sweat.

When she was very little, before she met the badgermoles, Toph wished for sight. Not because she wanted to see—she had no concept of what the word meant. She could not wish for something that was, to her, as fictional as the tale of Oma and Shu, as legendary and nebulous as the Avatar. But if she had sight, she would be normal. Her parents would take her places instead of keeping her shut up in their mansion. They would speak to her with voices that were loving and approving, not worried and always slightly condescending, as though because she was blind she also had to be slow. As though because she did not perceive the world like they did she must perceive it badly.

Once she did learn to see through the earth, she came to think of those wishes the same way she thought of her parents: with contempt, with an anger so fierce and bright she felt like she stood on ice, because when she felt it she couldn't sense anything else.

She wished for sight now.

She wanted to see Sokka the way everyone else saw him. They could take in at a glance the way he sat, his expression, the set of his body. She knew where he was, because the heat of another body made a noticeable difference in such a cold place, and she could hear him breathing, and she thought he might have his back turned to her, because he hadn't reacted. But it told her nothing a simple glance could.

She wanted him to say something. She wanted him to sit up and tell her to put on some booties, because even though the floor was covered in furs it was still cold and barren. She wanted him to reach for her.

But he didn't. She wasn't even sure if he knew she was there. She felt her way forward carefully, using her toes as a guide, until she touched the edge of his bed. Squatting, she reached for his shoulder. His skin was warm under her palm, like always, and he didn't move way, but he also didn't roll over and pull her against him, or put his hand on top of hers, or do anything but keep breathing in that soft, steady way.

The anger came back, and Toph was glad.

She got up. Her anger pulsed in her throat and her wrists and her temples, and it told her what to say. "Sokka," she said, and her voice was not angry. It was stone, harder than obsidian and sharper than shards of broken glass beneath her bare feet. "You are going to get up this instant, do you hear me?"

He did not say anything, and Toph dropped to one knee beside him, like a lover proposing to his girlfriend. She put her hand on his shoulder again; this time it was not to touch but to grip, to hold, to force him to roll over so he was on his back and she was looking down at him. She half-wanted to pin him down like an alpha wolf showing a weaker one who was boss and just _hold_ him there until he saw sense. But he was her friend, and she loved him, and she owed him better than that.

"Sokka," and her voice was a command, a marching order, "you are going to get up, and you are going to eat, and you are going to get your baby to shut the fuck up. Are we clear?"

Sokka's breathing came harsh and sharp now; she moved her hand so she could feel his pulse throbbing in his neck. He grabbed her pant leg and pulled himself up. Then he put his arms around her neck, one hand digging into her shoulderblade and one hand digging into the nape of her neck so hard it was bright and painful. He wasn't crying; he was wheezing softly, like it was hard for him to draw full breaths, and his face was pressed against hers.

Toph didn't care. She held him back just as fiercely, because even though she was angry she knew he needed it, and while Katara and Aang could offer the same comfort, they didn't understand him the way she did. They might have known him longer, but they weren't the _same_, the way she and Sokka were.

She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to press him back down on the mat and hold him, let him cry against her until it was dry inside him and he could think again. But Kuei still wailed in the background.

So she sat there for as long as she could, and then she reached back and carefully pried his hands away. She gripped his shoulders and got him to stand with her. His whole body trembled under her hands like a leaf about to fall from the tree, but she did not let that reach her. She took his hand and led him out, and even though it was usually the other way around, it was right.


	3. Mother

Sokka wasn't lying when he said he no longer remembered his mother. The details that remained were scattered and dysfunctional, and when he thought about them, he realized they were the ones he would give Toph. The way his mother's hand was always just the right temperature—cooling when he had a fever; warm when he came in from the snow. The way her voice rose and fell in steady intervals like music, especially when she spoke to his father. The way she always smelled of the arctic flowers that bloomed in the brief, furious spring, even in the dead of winter when Sokka always believed in his heart of hearts that the sun would never rise again.

"Do you think your dad will ever get married again?"

Sokka couldn't remember when he and Suki had this conversation, but it was after they got married because her hair was long and tickled his back. They didn't sleep spoons, like most couples; they were always back to back, her arms tucked up under her neck and one of his hands resting on her thigh.

He ran his hand back and forth over her skin and didn't say anything. "I've never thought about it, I guess. He's just… my dad." He was too awake to want to fall back asleep; he rolled over and rested his hand on her stomach. "I know he could have used some help when Mom died, because me and Katara were both pretty young, but—"

Sokka squinted. He had vague memories of women coming by his father's tent, women whose husbands had either been killed or had been gone so long that it came to the same thing. But he had been too young to pay attention to adults like they were other people and not just forces that kept him from doing what he wanted.

He thought of the way his father acted now, and he pressed his face into the back of Suki's neck, feeling a sudden chill. What would he do if something ever happened to her? "No, I don't think he will," he said softly. Before Suki could ask him why, he moved his hand up to her breast, and they soon forgot the subject.

Kuei was almost two now, and he seemed to find his way into everything. Sokka's friends spent a great deal of time convincing him that every little bad thing that happened would not harm Kuei for life, and for the most part, he believed them.

It wasn't like Sokka freaked out very often, after all. Things were… mellower these days. It was harder to work himself up to the ecstasies of worry he had once managed—and also harder to work himself up to the plain old ecstasies, but that would change in time. Kuei was, for the most part, a delightful child. No single father could ask for an easier infant.

Sokka would always miss going out into the field—since Suki's death, the need to protect everyone around him, to keep them close and safe where they belonged, had become something of an obsession—but he had to admit, he liked being able to watch Kuei grow up without guilt. Especially now that he was learning to talk. He was good with "Dad" and "Gramp-gramp" and "Aang," though "Katara" was still beyond him. (She settled for "Auntie" and never seemed to get sick of it, which was excellent, because Kuei seemed to think that the words he knew described everything in the universe, so he would repeat them at length until they figured out what he meant.)

"Toph'll be home soon," said Katara, watching him with that thoughtful kind of expression she got in her eyes now and then, the one Sokka could never make any sense of. ("Home" didn't mean a set place for Team Avatar anymore; they had to move around too much. It had come to refer to any place the majority of the group was gathered—which was usually the Southern Water Tribe, since they always had to come back to discuss plans with Sokka.)

"I know," said Sokka, settling Kuei on his chest and stroking his fine hair. He tilted his head slightly, wondering what she was getting at. "I read the letter first, didn't I?" Kuei began to drool on him, and Sokka shifted slightly so it wouldn't get all over his shirt.

Katara was still watching him with that too-thoughtful look. She had a bad habit of turning that on him whenever Toph came up, as though somehow Toph's ability to rouse Sokka from his melancholy and get him moving again meant something. She just knew him better than they did, that was all.

Sure, he hadn't seen her in six months, and he missed her, but only in the way he missed any of his family when they left. He didn't think he could ever get Katara to understand how completely he wasn't interested in romance these days. Girls put too much emphasis on that kind of thing.

Toph came home the next week. She had a fresh scar on her forehead that Katara worried over (and so did Sokka, though he had enough sense to keep it to himself) and a new set of bawdy songs that she immediately set about teaching to all the kids in the village.

Sokka was glad to have her back. She wouldn't look at him (well, speak to him, but it came to the same thing) the way everyone else did, like he was still something broken that needed careful handling. Maybe he was, but he didn't care for the reminder. Toph knew that.

And she didn't. When she came to the tent they all shared when they were together, she flopped down on the skins beside him so they sat shoulder-to-shoulder. No preamble, no explanation. It was just what she had to do to see him properly—and, anyway, it was just how they were.

He wished he could tell her how much he appreciated that, but he had never been the one with the right words.

"Hey, Meathead," said Toph, nudging him. "Miss me?" Her grin was broad, and he had to grin back.

"Nah," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. "You weren't gone long enough. When are you going to learn we just want you to stay away?"

Toph chuckled and slugged him, but it was an affectionate sort of slug. He had almost missed it.

Kuei, who was sitting in the corner chewing on the teething rings Hakoda had made for him, lifted his head. He looked at Toph curiously for a moment, like she was some new breed of animal he had never seen before, even though Toph was just as involved in his life as everyone else. Maybe more, since she was the one who had forced Sokka back into life after Suki's death. Kuei considered Toph, and then a blissful smile spread across his face. He pointed at her. "Tuff," he proclaimed. He stuck the teething ring back in his mouth, grinning around the smooth edges.

Sokka let out a delighted laugh; Kuei had never said that before.

Toph tilted her head toward the baby, the way she did whenever she needed to hear something more clearly. "What did he say?" she asked. Her lips twitched, as though she didn't know what to make of it.

"Tuff!" Kuei repeated, and he began to reach for her with the sort of urgency that meant he would soon begin to fuss—not angrily, as other babies did, but with a sad sort of confusion, like he couldn't figure out why anyone wouldn't want to give him what he wanted.

"I think you have a new name, Toph," said Sokka, and he couldn't stop grinning. He scooped up Kuei and nudged Toph with him. She shifted her arms so he could put Kuei in them—she was always careful with Kuei, in a way she wasn't with anything else—and let him put his chubby arms around her neck and gurgle in a pleased way.

Toph regarded him gravely in the way she studied things when she couldn't see with her earth sight: by moving her hand gently up and down his small body, checking for change; by tilting her head toward his so she could better study the sounds he made and the way he smelled. Then she grinned. "I like your boy, Sokka. He's got more sense than you do."

"Thanks, Toph," said Sokka, rolling his eyes even though he couldn't stop smiling.

"I only tell you the truth because I know no one else will, Sokka," said Toph, her voice oozing with false sincerity. "It's really for the best."

Kuei grew bored of their conversation and seized one of the puffballs on Toph's headband. Sokka turned, about to step in, but Toph shifted her grip on the baby and carefully seized his wrist, prying his little fingers off and moving his hand back to his side. "Uh-uh, buddy." Her voice was firm and calm, almost how she would speak to a pet, but with more respect for Kuei's intelligence. "Off-limits." Kuei made an irritated sound, but Toph clucked. "Nope."

Sokka passed Kuei the teething rings, and that calmed him down. Toph held him, watching him, in her own way, as attentively and with as much fascination as Sokka did. Something occurred to him, but for a moment, he couldn't look at it straight on because the idea was so strange in conjunction with Toph.

And yet, watching her, it wasn't, so he asked, "Do you want to have kids, Toph?"

Toph frowned, and then she did something he'd never seen before: she pressed her face against Kuei's cheek, the way Katara did when Aang had been away for longer than usual. Like only fresh life could make her comfortable. She stayed quiet for so long he thought she wasn't going to answer. Should he apologize for the question? Nothing was off-limits between them, but… there was something about her expression that made him feel like this was digging up something uncomfortable for her.

He remembered the conversation they had during Suki's pregnancy and blushed, and for the first time in his life he was glad Toph couldn't see his face.

But she shrugged. When she spoke, her voice had a high, careful tinge. "I haven't really thought about it, I guess. I always…" She frowned, running one finger over and over the top of Kuei's head. "I always kind of thought the baby-making was for you and Twinkletoes and Sugar Queen. Not me. It's not like I've ever met anybody… anybody I like that much. Not like that."

Kuei began to fidget, and she set him down, and they didn't talk about it again, even though it kept occurring to Sokka at the strangest times. Not his initial question—why she lied to him about liking someone that much when she had never once hesitated to tell him anything.


	4. Chapter 4

After her death, Hakoda and Sokka never talked about Suki. It was the good kind of not-talking. Hakoda did not need to acknowledge the things he and his son had in common; they both knew just by looking at each other. When they sat in silence, side by side, Sokka knew what Hakoda was thinking about; that Hakoda, at one point, had been just where Sokka was, and he had turned into one of the most amazing people Sokka knew. Sokka would be all right, just the way Hakoda was. It would take time, but both of them knew it was true, and they didn't need to tell each other what they already knew.

Sometimes Sokka did wish he could ask if it ever stopped hurting, if Hakoda ever stopped looking for Kaya's face in Katara's and clinging to any resemblance he saw. But Sokka couldn't, and it was all right, because he couldn't talk about Suki with anyone else, either.

Returning to the Jasmine Dragon without Suki was a strange and horrible experience. It was strange enough being out of the Southern Water Tribe for the first time in almost three years. Walking through cities made of stone and brick again was almost surreal; he kept waiting to wake up back in his own bed, one arm curled around Kuei

But he was here, and he needed to focus on the good in life.

Like Toph, who was waiting for him, Aang, and Katara when they arrived. She had been in her hometown for her parents' birthday; they had a truce these days, but Sokka didn't think they would ever love each other the way parents and children were supposed to.

She stayed sat when they walked in, her fingers curled around a cup of jasmine tea, but she couldn't keep a grin off her face. "Finally," she said, putting her arms behind her head. "I thought you guys were never gonna show. I thought it was just gonna be me and Angry Jerk all this time—do you know how boring that would be?"

"One of these days, Toph, you're going to call me by name," said Zuko, who was lounging on a pile of cushions in the corner, his back against Mai's.

"Pfft," said Toph, sticking out her tongue in his general direction.

Aang exchanged a glance with Sokka and Katara, the kind of look that only meant one thing. Sokka set Kuei, two and a half now, on the floor and pushed him in Zuko and Mai's general direction. Toph cocked her head, but before she could say anything, the three of them rushed across the room and tackled her out of her chair, landing on a large pillow with a loud thump. Toph yelped, her feet straight up in the air, and slugged whoever was closest—Sokka, in this case. Good thing he was used to it. She tried to struggle away, but the others held her fast until she submitted, only because she was laughing too hard to speak.

Aang set his head on her shoulder. He had one arm around Toph's waist; the other held Katara against him as she leaned an elbow on Toph's stomach. "Group hug," he announced, grinning.

"This was your idea, Twinkletoes, wasn't it?" said Toph. She couldn't growl properly because she was grinning too much, but she did manage a very good nasty look. Sokka was impressed. Aang made a pleased noise and snuggled closer. "I'll get you for this."

"You guys," said Mai, with that exqusite distaste in her voice only she could truly muster, "are disgusting."

"Grr," said Toph, but she didn't try to get up again.

The next few hours were blissful, like the first time they had come here after the end of the war. Back when they really thought everything was over because Ozai was in a cell and the Earth King was on his way home. Sokka didn't like to remember how naïve those thoughts were. The fifth anniversary of Ozai's defeat had come and gone, and they were still fighting.

And Suki was cold in the ground.

The thought made him shudder, and he had to excuse himself and go out to the balcony.

Nobody noticed that Sokka left because Mai, in her usual fashion, had managed to turn everything on its head a few minutes before. She was accepted by everyone now. Once you got past the boredom and sarcasm—well, there was something else there, and though nobody could quite name it, they appreciated it. Also, Mai had this wonderful habit of completely disconcerting Zuko, which Toph thought was amazing.

"Jeeze," said Mai, after Katara hugged Toph for probably the third time that night (not counting the tackle). "You guys'd think you weren't going to see each other again soon."

The rest of the group exchanged glances. Mai knew their schedule as well as everyone else. "Well, we're not," said Katara, her arms still around Toph's neck. "Aang and I have to go back to Omashu, and Sokka's got to go back home, and Toph—"

Before she could say where Toph had to go—west, back to the colonies—Mai let out one of her signature sighs. "I know all of that." Her voice held the patience of someone constantly surrounded by less intelligent people—another thing Toph liked about her. "But you'll have an excuse to get together again, won't you?"

Even Zuko looked confused; they all stopped and looked at her, and Mai let out another disgusted sigh. "Isn't it_ obvious_? I'm having a baby, and you're all coming to the naming ceremony."

Zuko made a noise that could only be described as a "squeaky scream," which told everyone present Mai had forgotten to mention this detail to him ahead of time. Toph wanted to ask someone what his face looked like, but everyone was too busy talking. Aang was congratulating them, and Katara was _squealing_, even louder than she had when Suki got pregnant. Iroh was laughing so hard it came out only as gasps. And Kuei, who never liked being left out, was shouting his latest word, _penguin_, at the top of his lungs.

And Sokka slipped out in all the confusion, and Toph didn't care about anything else. She found Mai's hand and squeezed it, which was the only sort of congratulations Mai would appreciate anyway, and then she followed him.

Sokka heard her coming , but he didn't turn around; he thought maybe if he stood very still, she would go back to the others. If she did, he knew she wouldn't bring it up, and she wouldn't fuss about it like the others would. But he knew she wasn't going to go back. He wiped an arm across his eyes in the ridiculous hope she wouldn't hear his sadness in his voice.

Toph walked up to the balcony and leaned her elbows on it, her face turned toward the setting sun. "You know, it's nice to actually see you for once." Her voice was no different than it had been inside, and he was glad of that. She let out an overacted sigh. "Too bad you're so damn ugly, or I might actually be happy about it."

Sokka burst out laughing. Toph set her head on her arms, and he wiped his eyes again and put his arm around her thin shoulders and hugged her close. "Spirits, I missed you," he whispered, rubbing her arm.

"Of course you did, Snoozles," said Toph, with a surprisingly fond expression. She pressed her cheek against his chest, and then she nudged him with his elbow. "Come on. Let's go back inside before Sugar Queen notices and gets all weepy on us."

They turned as one, his arm still around her; they had plenty of practice with that. He shook his head. "Eh, she'll already be crying. Did you see the look on Zuko's face?" Toph slugged him. "Oh. Sorry."


End file.
